


A Lover Died

by OctarinePegacorn



Category: Good Charlotte
Genre: F/M, Implied Dismemberment, Implied Insanity, Love Triangle, Murder the Hypotenuse, Obsession, Stalking, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctarinePegacorn/pseuds/OctarinePegacorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's St. Valentine's Day and you're sure it's the perfect day to go to a dance with your boyfriend. No amount of stalking or madness could ruin it, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lover Died

[Oh, my love/Please don’t cry/I’ll wash my bloody hands and/We’ll start a new life]

“[name]…” he said softly. His tone wasn’t condescending. Which added annoyance to the list of negative emotions you were feeling right now. The others were melancholia, misery, fear and a tiny dash of rage that kept on slipping in and out of your conscious. Why did he look so innocent? If his eyes had a cold, calculating look, you would find it easier to detest him.

Moving wasn’t an option. He was in front of you and even though he looked like the kindest boy in the universe right now, his obsession still drove him to homicide. There was blood caking the sleeves of his suit jacket. When he was determined to accomplish a task, a particular and peculiar look appeared on his face. He wasn’t making that face now, but if you saw it you knew it would all be over for you.

He noticed your wide-eyed expression and his eyes became just as big. “Oh, I forgot to wash the blood off…”

“Why…?” you started but couldn’t finish.

Your eyes had started to water slightly when he entered the room and now all you could process was the melancholia and rage. No misery. Sadness was so much better than depression, when it came to negative emotions.

“Because, I-” You were afraid that he was going to say “I love you”. That was the last thing you needed to hear right now, probably because it was true. This wasn’t a mere infatuation. He didn’t have a crush on you. You both knew each other too much. There was the intimacy (in a “you-know-most-of-my-childish-secrets” kind of way) and commitment in both of you, but the passion was only one-sided.

His doe (buck?) eyes narrowed slightly. You looked off to the side for a moment and when you looked back he had a “come hither” expression his face.

“[name],” he murmured again, this time so soft you could barely heard him say it. You pressed you back and the palm of your hands to the wall, trying not to blink too much. He took a step towards you and all you could think was oh God, oh God, oh God, over and over again.

“Let’s start over.”

“Oh God,” you said quietly. 

He cocked his head, frowning slightly. But it wasn’t an angry frown. He reached his hand out but sluggishly withdrew it. A smile slowly formed on his face. 

The murderer started to giggle and, as the giggles turned into muffled laughter, you wanted to ask “What’s so funny?” but he suddenly stopped and looked up into your face. The adoration that was practically gushing from him was sickening. 

“I want to make him an unperson.” He held his arms out slightly as the “come hither” look returned. “Let’s go on with our lives, and act like he never existed.”

[I ripped out/His throat/And called you on the telephone to/Take off, my disguise/Just in time to hear you cry/When you]

You knew you were being stalked. The biggest problem was that you didn’t know who it was. Your boyfriend said it probably came from forgetting to close the blinds. Moving your bedroom upstairs wouldn’t help. If your stalker was as determined as you suspected, he – Or she, who knew? – might just buy binoculars. Or worse, a ladder.

He (for simplicity’s sake) would stand outside, at a distance, and just stare into your household. The stalking had started fairly recently, in the beginning of December. Because of the cold weather, he would wear a dark black or gray coat with a hood. If it was snowing, he still came but left early. And, because he always came at night, identification wasn’t possible.

You had even called the local police station and they had set up surveillance cameras. But the identity of your little admirer still remained a secret and they told you to forget about it.

“If he hasn’t broken in or assaulted you, then he’s probably harmless, right?”

There was no point in arguing. Your town didn’t have a very large police force and a stalker who didn’t do anything wasn’t seen as a serious threat. Police officers have more important things to do than comfort some poor girl who was too stupid to remember not to give some desperate fellow a free peepshow. 

It had been a while, but you remembered reading something in Stephen King’s Dark Half. About how someone who was determined to kill you would wait until guards had been let down. Maybe that’s what your stalker was planning. He thought eventually you’d get used to it, and, maybe even begin to expect it. For all you knew, it could have been a member of the police force, off duty.  
***  
Why isn’t he picking up? you thought, resisting the urge to glare at the telephone, as you changed into your PJs on the top floor.

You had left your coat at his house before heading off to a Valentine’s Day dance. He could have been gone to bed, of course, but there was a phone in his room and he wasn’t a particularly light sleeper.

When the phone started to ring, your heart skipped a beat. You glanced at the caller ID. “Unknown”. That was funny. You knew almost everyone’s number in town, so maybe this came from a phone booth…?

“I’ve been watching you,” said a voice. It sounded familiar. But, most voices sound “familiar”, don’t they? This sort of reminded you of a television character. A guy who-

“Killed your boyfriend.”

The pounding in your chest almost hurt. Trying to avoid breathing heavily, you quickly and quietly stepped over to the window. There was no one standing outside.

“Huh?” 

“His throat got ripped out,” he continued, excitedly. “I’ll email a picture.”

You shivered. The electric blanket was going to be on high tonight. You noticed the sound of frozen raindrops falling on the roof. That’s when you recognized the voice. You said his name, making it sound like a question. 

The only response was a short laugh. Yeah, it was definitely your best (guy) friend. And his father a recently retired police officer…

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“Haha, no.”

The picture wasn’t exactly ghastly enough. But it was definitely your boyfriend. It looked like something had grabbed his Adam’s apple and gave a quick and impossibly strong yank. The hole in his neck was all pink and red. Valentine’s colors, a dazed voice inside your head told you.

“Why-?”

“I love you.”

I don’t doubt that, you thought as you closed your eyes. When you opened them it said “1 New Message”.

“Click on it,” whispered your friend. For a brief moment you could see the anticipation in his voice, dripping like honey from his mouth, through the phone and into your ear. You opened the email.

The next picture you had to look away from almost as soon as you looked at it. You were glad you moved out of your parents’ house a month ago, because your weeping would almost surely have woken them up.

[You mourn the death of your bloody valentine/The night he died/You mourn the death of your bloody valentine/One last time/Singing]

“[name]?”

You were lying on the floor. Not even in a fetal position; you just collapsed. And you just knew your eyes were red and puffy. An ugly sight. What would your friend-turned-admirer think if he saw you like this? 

You clicked the phone off and threw it away from you. Breaking down inside, you thought about things you didn’t even know you knew about.

There are lots of knives in here...

But no. You didn’t want to join your boyfriend in death. And you didn’t know how you could go after your ex-friend and get away with it. How long had he felt like this? You were slowly regaining some of your sanity.

I need to call the police station. The county one, this time.

“This is the... County Police Station. What’s your emergency?”

“My stalker just killed my boyfriend.”

[Oh, my love/Please don’t cry/I’ll wash my bloody hands and/We’ll start a new life/I don’t know much at all/I don’t know wrong from right/All I know is that I love you tonight]

The tears were starting to flow again. You tried to hold them back. Didn’t he realize that what he did was… What? Heinous? Irredeemable? Evil?

“[name],” he called softly, wrapping his arms around you. You stiffened, if that was even possible, considering how frozen in place you felt. “It’s okay.”

He leaned down slightly and his lips grazed your cheek. “We can move in together now. I’ll protect you. No one else will make you do anything you don’t want to.”

The blood was seeping into your nightgown. It was snow white with little candy hearts on it, perfect for St. Valentine’s Day, but you felt a little childish wearing it. That plus your cupid’s bow-splattered underwear made you feel downright infantile. 

And they had been a gift from your late boyfriend. It was your first time wearing them.

“You’re not happy with me, aren’t you?” he asked, trying to sound just the tiniest bit upset. “Maybe I didn’t do the right thing but he didn’t either, did he? He didn’t understand your needs.” He suddenly sounded shy. “But I think I do. I knew you first, didn’t I?”

[There was police and flashing lights/The rain came down so hard that night/And the headlines read “A Lover Died”/No tell-tale heart was left to find/When you]

When the police came, you had finally composed yourself. You were no longer puffy eyed and you were pretty sure you wouldn’t break down mentally again, at least not soon.

You started to tell them about your stalker. About how he would watch you, for hours on end, and how you didn’t know what to do. The town’s police officers hadn’t thought it was serious. You were about to show them the emails, when the front door was thrown open.

“[name]!” your stalker with a crush called. 

Oh God, I can’t stand this. I need to...

You sat down, wide-eyed. It didn’t feel real. It was like you had stepped into someone else’s life. This kind of thing just didn’t belong in a small town like yours. Oh sure, you were planning on moving to a bigger town in a bigger county, eventually, and maybe a jealous homicide would have happened there, but here? It just didn’t seem like a possibility.

“I heard police sirens and, well, I thought…”

He was a good actor, you thought, trembling slightly. He honestly looked concerned. And how could you not have known it was him on the phone? How long had you been friends with him?

Your obsessed friend bent down so he could wrap his arms around your shoulders and you barely registered it.

“Miss [surname], the emails?”

“I’m still logged onto my email account,” you were able to muster up. He was nuzzling against you, but the officers didn’t seem to take notice.

“Do you recognize the email address?”

He let go and offered a hand for you to grab. You ignored him and walked over to the computer. 

“That’s… my boyfriend’s.”

The police officer bit her lip when she saw the photos attached. She must have been used to this kind of stuff, but the pouring atmosphere tonight wasn’t helping anyone’s nerves.

“Is there a safe place you can spend the night?” she asked urgently.

You were about to ask why you couldn’t just head on down to the police station, but you knew the answer. It was St. Valentine’s Day. There were probably any drunks being held in cells and that’s probably where your stalker would expect you to go to. And that was just the local station. 

“She can spend the night at my place, ma’am.”

You were about to speak up until you remembered his father was a former police officer. He would have a heart attack if he found out what his son did. Shutting your mouth and dropping your gaze to the floor, you allowed him to lead you away.  
***  
He put his jacket over your head and rushed you across the street, to his car. Maybe he would kill you too, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about living the rest of your life without your boyfriend. He was thoroughly soaked by the time he got you inside his house.

You already knew where everything was. You’d been here more times than you could remember. Lying down immediately on the couch you buried your face in a pillow and closed your eyes. You laid there for a while and then you heard his footsteps. He placed a blanket over you. You didn’t hear the footsteps move away.  
***  
The next morning when you woke up, he was gone. But there was a newspaper on the table and a warm plate of eggs and toast plus a glass of cranberry juice. Maybe they were poisoned, maybe they weren’t. It didn’t make much of a difference now. You’d reject him and then he’d probably kill you as well.

Ah, so soon?

The front page had an article about your boyfriend’s murder. It didn’t mention you, which was good. It didn’t even mention how the police had found out about the homicide. But it did mention one little detail that made you put your hand over your chest. When you counted five heartbeats, you removed it.

[You mourn the death of your bloody valentine/The night he died/You mourn the death of your bloody valentine/One last time/Singing]

Wait, a little voice inside your mind said, why are his hands covered in blood? They weren’t bloody when he walked over to your house…

He didn’t… Not again? 

[Oh, my love/Please don’t cry/I’ll wash my bloody hands and/We’ll start a new life/I don’t know much at all/I don’t know wrong from right/All I know is that I love you tonight] 

You said his name. “…why are your hands covered in blood?” 

“Oh.” He looked down at his hands and smiled. “I got you a valentine.” He reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Sorry for not giving it to you yesterday, but, well, you know…” He laughed again, and this time it sounded more good-natured. 

[Tonight/He dropped you off/I followed him home/Then I stood outside his bedroom window/Standing over him, he begged me not to do what I had to do ‘cause I’m so in love with you] 

You were in his arms again. How had this happened? After taking a shower, you put on the nightgown your obsessed friend had made for you, with his own two hands, and you two were embracing. 

“What were you thinking, when you were in the shower?” 

A blood blush was forming on your face. Was there any other kind? Besides the homemade nightgown, he had also given you your late boyfriend’s heart. You took it without a word. Maybe you should have been grossed out, but it had once been a very important organ. Besides pumping blood, it was also the body part known for aching when its owner had a one-sided love. When you were in the shower, you had held his heart to your chest and you counted your beats again. 

“What our new life was going to be like,” you replied, using less emotion than you had intended. 

“After he dropped you off at your house,” he confessed, “that’s when I followed him to his. The bedroom’s on the ground floor, just like yours.”  
***  
 **(Still Alive) Love Interest’s POV**

As I stood over him, he looked up at me, fearful. Not for his life. 

“Please,” he begged, “leave [name] out of this. Oh God, leave [name] out of this. Leave her alone.” 

“You know I can’t do that,” I replied, annoyed. “Don’t you realize how much she means to me?” 

“First come, first served” sounds kind of crude, but… 

“I know her better than you do. Than anyone does, besides her parents. In the romantic sense, we’d be as close to perfect as it’ll get.” 

“What’ll you do?” he scoffed. “Protect her? She needs protection, from guys like you.” 

I shrugged. “I know I’m not perfect, but nobody is.” I sighed. “And you don’t care about her, not like I do.” 

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you ever say that.” 

[Oh, my love/Please don’t cry/I’ll wash my bloody hands and/We’ll start a new life/I don’t know much at all/I don’t know wrong from right/All I know is that I love you tonight/Tonight] 

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna know why the scenes aren't exactly in order? Refer to summary. I should probably post something other than obsessive love stories on here...


End file.
